Touring America Vacation style
by Quacked Lurker
Summary: School is out! Finally. With three months of non-regulated time before them, what are the new allies going to do? Sam's got a few ideas, and wants to drag Mikaela along with him. Bee, well, he's still trying to understand humans. Chapter 3: Clashing Holiday expectations
1. Beach and coast

With the battle for the All-spark completed, the war was essentially over. Getting the two main factions to talk about their options, well, that wouldn't happen in this lifetime. Many human generations down the road, perhaps Autobots and Decepticons could spot each other without going for weaponry.

Not likely, but a 'bot could hope.

**TRANSFORMERS are not Mine. I'm just playing in the sandbox.**

Summer vacation rolled around again, and practically every high-school student ran out the school doors talking about their travel plans. Bee's sensors picked up a lot of destinations, such as Paris, Sydney Australia, Grand Canyon, London, New York, The Big Apple, the Art Museum, Dallas Texas, Hawaii, Cuba, Florida, Mexico, Cancun, Bahamas, Caribbean, Cruises, Las Vegas, Lake Tahoe, Yosemite, Sequoias, Disneyland, Disneyworld, Sea World, Six Flags, The Nile, and much much more.

Some were said with dread – 'my parents are dragging me there'; 'it's a family reunion', 'lots of boring cousins I don't even know', - others with exasperation – 'we're going to the Capital _AGAIN!_, why can't we go someplace else for a change?' – but a couple were said cheerfully – 'I love going to Disneyland! This year, we're going to …'

Bee, having listened to most of these conversations throughout the day (the teenagers were mentioning where' they'd like to go or what they'd enjoy doing when they thought the teachers couldn't reprimand them), had the opportunity to use the Internet to figure out which ones the Autobots could use in an effort to understand the humans better. Some were out – the theme parks for instance, since the holoforms would not be up to an all-day excursion of bombardment from leaky electronic signals, overwhelming stimulas, and constantly adjusting the light-show so that they'd be soild instead of images only. Other locations were iffy. Europe, consisting of Big Ben, the Tower Of London, Paris, London, and a host of other popular destinations, catered strictly to humans. Understandably so, since earth didn't know about aliens at the moment, there was no need to draw stranger visitors in. A mono-language culture and horde was about as far out there as most of the United Kingdom inhabitants were ready and willing to entertain.

Now the places like the Great Barrier Reef, the Great Pyramids of Egypt, the Amazon Basis (if Ratchet authorized that trip – their current altforms wouldn't handle the liquid surface very well), the Sahari Desert, the Himalayas, the Great Wall of China (could a rock-road several hundreds or thousands of years old handle over five tons of machinery traveling on it?), the Grand Canyon, or the National/State Parks, they might be worth going to. While such locations might be filled to capacity with humans, the experience would be the same: going someplace diverse, someplace unique, seeing the natural beauty, and one of the wonders of the world.

Jazz, if he were still among the living, might have argued for the cultural events, like the County Fairs, New Orleans during their yearly festival, the Running of the Bulls, or a host of other activities that happened year round

But Jazz wasn't here, and the few humans who knew about them were still trying to wrap their heads around the fact that aliens, in the forms of giant metal machines (robots and androids both had the four Autobots pleading for another word) did exist and currently resided on earth. William Lennox and Bobby Epps, they had accepted their presence almost instantly, after the Mission City Fiasco. Sam Witwicky and Mikaela Banes, slid back into the teenage mindset and were no longer freaking out at home. Reginald Simmons and Tom Bannock, well, they seemed to be the most adjusted out of all sector 7 agents. Not an easy task when everyone thought The Ice Man was the only version and …. Yeah, that aspect of humanity was best left under the rock they hid under.

Judy and Ron Witwicky, were officially ignorant as to the Bumblebee's true identity. However, the yellow Autobot knew they knew that he wasn't a Camaro like he pretended to be. How could they not realize?

Sam popped open Bee's door, bringing him out of his internal musing. "What's up, Bee?"

Bee could use his radio to answer, but chose not to search for lyrics that could be misinterpreted. "Got any summer plans?"

Sam threw his empty backpack in the backseat. "Parents want quality family-son bonding time. It's not going to take all three months." He slid into the driver's seat and put his hands on the wheel. It had taken several weeks before either he or Mikaela actually sat in the driver's position, let alone touch the steering wheel, brake pad, and gas petal. Thankfully the oblivious teenagers dreading classes had not noticed any abnormalities about the 'driver' or the vehicle while Sam slowly figured out it was all right (and proper) to sit where he was supposed to sit as the owner of the government-issued replacement 2007 Camero (not that anyone actually bought the 'GIR' excuse. No one asked about the sudden change from a 1976 clunker to a brand-new version, and thus, the GIR answer had not been uttered). "Dad thought we could go someplace with lots of flowers, Mom wants to visit family in other states. Both are wanting to use you instead of their cars."

Bee sank down a couple of inches before jumping up. Since he couldn't shrug while in car form, (and after he spied several cars that could raise their wheels or lower the chassis towards the ground), this little hop on all four wheels was the best he could do to physically express himself. "I don't mind. They don't leave stuff inside me, and are kind enough to converse with me. Besides, going on the road would be kind of cool."

Sam, in the process of back out (and waiting for the parking lot to clear enough so that he wouldn't be fighting traffic for every foot of gained ground), slammed his head on the steering wheel, nearly triggering the horn. "A Road Trip?" He shrieked/mumbled. "With my folks? Are you trying to torture me?"

Perplexed by Sam's automatic response, Bee stalled. Did human children really view their parents in such a dim way? "Don't you want to spend quality time with your creators?"

"Parents, not creators, Bee. Yeah, but not all three months. I see enough of them after school and on the weekends. Kind of wanted to spend more time with you and 'Kaela."

"Thank you, but Why?"

"'Cause none of the other kids are going to be spending this time with their parents. Me and them, it'd be weird traveling with just mom and dad."

"Not true. Approximately thirty-three percent of your peers are also spending a month of this vacation with relatives they don't know. Reunions, funerals, mandatory get-togethers, business-trips for one parent dragging the entire family along, -"

"Fine, fine fine. I get it." Sam sat up and waved his hands around in the interior. "I won't be the only one being weirded out by strange adults and their odd behaviors." He signed and pretend to drive Bee our of the school parking lot into the busy streets. "Any idea where they want to go?"

"Why don't you ask them?"

"'Cause I know they talk to you, asking about your opinion on something you've never seen, a place you've never gone." Bee turned on the radio searching for a proper quote to use. "And I also know you've gone to the 'visitor' pages and used their words to entice my parents to get out of town." They stopped at a red light. "Mom and dad _never_ want to go on extended trips, and suddenly they're talking about the mountains and how wonderful the view must be. They don't hike or take pictures, but suddenly that's all they want to do. 'Fess up, Bee."

Bee settled on his shock absorbers. His durable metal framework could handle the minor dings and dents caused by sharp objects laying in the roadway, and there was no fear of puncturing an oil pan or transmission line, or tearing open the gas tank. Not from the debris of nails or similar stuff. "I want to explore the world. None of us completely understand you or the others, and we can't. The World Wide Web isn't enough. Talk, yes, but experience, no. Optimus Prime sees value in you humans, but the rest of us don't. Not in the same way. If the only thing I can take from earth is memories, I want to see the same thing that enthralls so many of you. Not just the music or the arts, or the stone monuments, but the actual places that your ancestors walked."

Sam remained silent until they pulled up into the Witwicky driveway. "Let me talk to 'Kaela. Maybe she wants to go someplace new or has a favorite spot outside of Nevada."

"Sure."

Bee sat alone in front of the garage, waiting and wondering. The intermittent sun helped chase some of the dreariness away. The low gray clouds, not so much. When he first watched the movies and TV shows the teens raved about between classes, Bee wondered about the weather effects – why the producers would include rain here, but not there, and why they'd include the clouds but forget about the shadows and not change the illumination levels. It had taken Bee nearly four months of constant videos and movies to understand the correlation between 'bad' weather and 'sad' scenes. Only now, did he finally realize that it wasn't the weather or climate that expressed the emotions. That was just the way most directors could connect with their audience so the viewers could understand that something terrible had just happened or was going to happen.

That revelation did not cheer him up.

* * *

><p>True to form, on days Sam did not have school, he slept in, burying his head underneath his thick covers, trying to hide from the rays of sun. Judy stirred as the illumination increased, and by the time the sun came up, she and Ron were eating breakfast or drinking coffee. Ron got out his mower and clipped the grass, even though it hadn't grown that much in the week. Judy took out her garden tools and attacked all the weeds that dared sprout in her garden. They noticed the wet brick walkway, but ignored it.<p>

Bee drove out of the garage where he'd taken shelter once the evening rains started. The light drizzle only wet the surface of the ground, and did not cause any puddles or mini-ponds where the water had not yet soaked in. He listened as Ron muttered to himself, "Really should adjust the sprinklers. Getting the sidewalk wet wastes water." But Bee did not speak. Through trial and error, he found out both adult humans tended to forget that he could hear them talking in the house, and reacted badly if he answered a rhetorical question, or otherwise reminded them there was someone else around. Now, if either of them addressed him directly, then it was okay to respond.

Sam, true to form, did not get out of bed until nine in the afternoon. He might have slept in until noon, but the nose smelt the bacon and eggs his parents ate, and there were other physical needs the growing boy needed to take care of. Sam, once he got out of the bathroom, did not bother going back to bed.

Forty-five minutes after finishing his shower, Sam stepped out of the house and walked towards Bee. He gave a half-hearted wave to his parents, who were hard at work on the far side of the yard. Neither noticed and they didn't waved back. At least, in Sam's view they didn't. Bee heard them call his name, but the boy, headphones in his ears, did not. Arms full of weeds and tools, they couldn't be energetic enough to catch his attention. Not with the speed Sam walked past them. Besides, waving a handful of weeds just encourages the dispersal of roots and seeds. Judy couldn't handle that. And tools, if dropped on the still-damp lawn, could potentially rust or bend or break a sprinkler head. Ron couldn't have that.

Sam slid into his seat, absently finishing off the last bite of toast. "So, where to?"

Bee revved his engine. "I thought you and Mikaela had already decided that."

Sam snorted. "Yeah, well, first day of vacation, and we both just want to go on a long drive. As long as we're back before the sun sets, we can go anywhere."

Bee wanted to groan. Instead, he took off down the residential road, heading towards Mikaela Bane's trailer. In the meantime, a map of the entire state Nevada, all of California, all of Arizona, the state of Utah, most of Idaho, all of Oregon, and parts of New Mexico, half of Wyoming, and a good portion of Colorado appeared. "Pick someplace."

Sam blinked. "You can cover all of that in one afternoon?"

"If I don't pay attention to the traffic and ignore the posted speed limit, yes."

"Okay, so what if we stay within the range of a normal car – half hour breaks every three or so hours, and no more than ten hours driving total."

The colored section shrank as the circle collapsed. Soon, New Mexico, Colorado, and Wyoming were gone from the map, leaving most of Nevada, Arizona, California and parts of Utah still in range under these new conditions.

They pulled up beside an impatiently waiting Miss Banes before Sam could make up his mind. Mikaela rolled her eyes when Bee popped open the door instead of Sam gallantly sliding out to open the door for her. "Cool map." She said while putting on her seat belt. "Why are you showing this?"

"Mister Samuel Witwicky has yet to pick a destination."

"Ah." Mikaela examined the colored portions of the Southern Western States. "Let's go to the coast. Surfing at Pismo is cool. It's one of the few things dad and I used to do together. This year, he can't take me." She shrugged. "If we can't make it all the way to Pismo, any beach with waves would be good."

"California boarder, here we come!"

Sam's cheerful yell proved to be contagious. Before the trio left Tranquility Nevada, Mikaela had laughed and Bee chuckled. Not enough to be noticeable to either passenger, of course.

The long drive grew monotonous. For the human teenagers, anyway. Bumblebee slowed to reasonable speeds so he could examine the landscape and take scans of the road and towns. This trip, though slow to start, might provide enough valuable information that Ratchet would be willing to explore the land and human cities in person instead of through the web. Optimus Prime had already managed several excursions, under the pretense of visiting the men who knew about them and meeting up with the scattered Sector 7 agents. (being disbanded, Sector 7 no longer resided underneath Hoover Dam. The autobots did for the moment, but when Major Lennox and his team managed to get some land set aside for their use, that would change). Bee, the guardian of Sam Witwicky chose not to go anywhere without the human, and thus, spent most of his free time in Tranquility Nevada and its countryside.

Sam and Mikaela, ignorant to the Autobot's top speed, did not realize Bee was going less than half of what he could do. If they did pay any attention to the speedometer and posted speed signs, they also spotted the warnings that said 'speed recorded by radar' and figured there was a police car or something nearby.

The trio whizzed by the surrounding towns and escaped the confines of Nevada in a very short period of time. Before Sam and Mikaela grew board with the quickly changing surrounds, they entered the foothills on the leeward side of the mountains. This rocky, arid land sparsely populated with trees, seemed to be home to more cacti and other desert plants than humans and their animals. Once they reached the lower mountain range, the road started to curve and hug the land, instead of cutting across the vast, open spaces. Once the yellow paint line dividing the traffic became two solid lines instead of dashes, Sam cried out "Jello!" and leaned towards Mikaela when Bee followed the road and curved sharply to the left.

Mikaela slugged Sam in the shoulder. "You are so immature", but she leaned towards him when Bee turned right. The sharper the corner, the farther they leaned, almost snuggling on the tightest curves.

"Are you two alright?"

Mikaela giggled. Sam frowned. "Yeah, we're fine. Why?"

"You seem to be slipping out of your seats. Is something wrong?"

"Na, nothings wrong. We're playing jello."

"How does one play, 'jello'?"

"Simple, don't fight to stay upright and let the turns in the road pull you this way or that way."

"I can increase the internal compensators." Bee proceeded to do just that.

"NO" "DON'!"

"Why not?"

"Because its fun letting go, and leaning into the curve," Mikaela stated with a 'Do I really need a better reason' tone,

"If you insist." Bee had to work at keeping the amusement he felt from leaking into his voice. In what felt like almost no time at all, the road they traveled on neared the top of the mountains, and instead of climbing up the incline, Bee had to apply some impressive breaking power to keep from sliding off the road and into the rock face or off the cliff. Inside, the two humans were laughing and screaming in delight at how close to the edge they were reaching.

Bee noticed that the cars he was illegally passing were staying at much lower speeds – most of them carefully traversed the curvy, narrow asphalt road in the mid thirty-miles to low forty miles per hour range while he could maintain a fifty, fifty-five mile an hour downhill slide, and not worry overmuch about losing traction. Or control.

Several hundreds of miles passed in a flash of colors. To both the humans and the Cybertrons, the trip to the coastline was a blur. Time seemed to flow in sporadic pulses – one moment, time would stay still, the next, the seconds flew by quicker than they should. The curvy, narrow mountain road was one section where time didn't exist. The long straight-aways, broken by intersections and towns, well, Bee went by them too fast for Sam to read the 'welcome to' signs, and going around them, though longer, was faster. In this case, the milage meant nothing to Mikaela, because they weren't doing the work or needing to scan the map or GPS for any rest-stops, gas stations, or fast-food marts.

Sam's meager breakfast did not satisfy the growing teenager long, but by the time he realized he was hungry, Bee pulled off the paved asphalt road and onto a dirt trail. "Whoa." Mikaela put one hand on the dashboard automatically, once the first pot-hole was cleared. Sam cautiously raised one hand up to keep his head from banging against the roof. Both moves were unnecessary.

Bee, navigating the uneven, unpaved, unofficial public road slowed drastically. This path did not support the high speed he was accustomed to, and the condition of the road forced all travelers to reduce speed or flirt with potentially deadly consequences. Any falls or sudden drops would not permanently damage the young Autobot warrior, but the humans were susceptible to the dips and rocks scattered randomly over the back route.

"Whoa" repeated Sam. "Where are we?"

"At the coast."

"I don't recognize any landmarks."

Bee let the friction from the sand slow him further, approaching speeds a human could replicate by running. "I believe Mikaela requested the coast, and while this Pismo might be fairly popular, it is also very public." The silence dragged on. "Did either of you bring a swimsuit or towel?" Another pause. "Thought not. It did not occur to me to ask, before we left. But my understanding of human culture suggests that while such attire is preferred, some dive in the water without changing. Is this correct?"

Mikaela leaned forward, scanning the horizon. With the bumping and jolting going on inside, it was hard to see anything definite near the edges of the windshield. "It depends on the ocean temperatures. Some areas need a wet suit for any significant length of time, while other locations are almost as warm as the air itself. The Pacific, I think, tends to be colder, but not that bad."

Sam shook his head. "No idea, Bee. Sure as kids Miles and I went straight from school into the pool, but here." He shrugged. "I see it."

Mikaela grinned. "Race ya."

The two humans opened up their doors and jumped out. They stumbled on the sandy surface, before their legs and bodies adjusted, then ran towards the waves, leaving Bee behind. The yellow Camero, empty of passengers, scanned the nearby area then transformed. His sixteen-foot body dwarfed the five-foot four inch humans, but their feet were made for shifting surfaces. His were not. If this was a rocky cliff, or a flat surface, Bee could easily pass the others, but here, on this beach, devoid of other humans (which was the only reason he reverted to mech form), he had to spend a lot of effort on his gyros, focusing more on stability than speed.

The official time, ignored by the humans, ticked on slowly, one second after another. The passage of time, forgotten, as the joy of freedom and lack of worries filled their entire body. Time had no meaning for them, there was nothing to fixate on, without other humans reminding them to 'put on sunscreen' or ask 'have you eaten yet'. Even the slow, steady passage of the sun first climbing, then falling overhead went unnoticed.

It was only after Mikaela's stomach growled, echoed by Sam's, did they realize no one packed a lunch, and they were hungry. "So, know of any places that serve good grub?"

Bee vented heavily. The act cleaned out his intake valves, but also gave an indication as to the level of frustration he felt. "Grub? Why would you want to eat bugs?"

Mikaela laughed, as Sam struggled to explain yet another odd human phrase. He gave up quickly. "No, what I meant was, are there any good restaurants nearby?"

Bee shuttered his blue optics. Kept them closed as he sank onto his haunches then slid onto his back. "I don't eat human food, and I'm not familiar with the area. Besides the last time I suggested food, you sat next to Miles. What's wrong with roasted crickets anyway? Lots of humans enjoy them."

Mikaela took pity on the poor men (well, man and mech). "Roasted crickets are a cultural food. Here in North America anyway. Elsewhere, insects might be the only source of food that lots of people have to eat." She shrugged and climbed up Bee, sitting on his armored frame instead of the baking sand. "Fresh water is more important to me."

"Here you go." Bee lifted something on his arm and pulled out two bottles of water. "Figured these would come handy sometime. Just not this soon."

"Thanks Bee." Sam grabbed one and drained the bottle before Mikaela had uncapped hers. "What about soda? Did you pack any of that?"

"Nope." Bee didn't even turn towards his charge. "Ratchet analyzed that stuff, and insisted that we avoid carrying that volatile substance at all costs. Did you know Pepsi can dissolve a nail?"

Mikaela grimaced. "So that's why my dad insists on having a huge canister of the stuff. I knew he used it to clean and strip car parts, but that's still gross."

Sam rolled his eyes and sank into the shadow on the beach. He glanced down at his empty bottle, back to the waves, and back to his bottle. "Didn't bring my wallet." He groused. "See ya." He called suddenly, jumping up and running headlong into the waves breaking off the beach.

"No fair!" Mikaela cried as she slid down Bee's frame and joined him. Soon, the area was filled with the shrieks of two teenagers as they played around in the cold, almost freezing, water, splashing and dunking each other.

Bee rolled off his back, exposing previously buried sensors. A quick scan of the area revealed no traffic, no unannounced humans, and nothing unwarranted. Seeing no need to preserve decorum, Bee pushed himself up and joined the two in the ocean. He swam out three times farther than they, but only because to remain near the same stretch of land and depth, would mean he would not get the same experience.

Sam and Mikaela, taught to swim by parents and coaches years ago, had no trouble staying afloat in the undulating water. Bumblebee, having limited experience on liquid planets (okay, none. The Mercury rivers on Cybertron were not conducive to floating or swimming, and all other liquids were typically methane or nitrogen in origin, and on the rare occasions the planets had an atmosphere and solid land, the liquid surfaces tended towards very corrosive stuff or were homes to natives that could swallow Omega Supreme in one bite), struggled a bit more. However, with a bit of adjusting and trial and error, Bee figured out how to not sink beneath the waves. Much easier, though, was to find an underwater shelf that could support his weight and stand on the submerged rock, letting the water sweep over him.

The currents were another challenge. This tug, distracted him, but did not pull him under. Not yet. If he fell or slipped, the undercurrent might grab hold of enough mass to make escaping harder. At this point, it was refreshing, having to fight something besides other Cybertrons, or worry about harming the humans accidentally.

Bee decided he had enough of the wet world before Sam and Mikaela left the sanctuary. He trudged back to land, careful not to swamp either of the teenagers as he passed. Still dripping, Bee collapsed back on the sand, careless to the particles that clung to him. A quick change of polarization would repel most of the salt crystals, and those that were stuck in his joints, the nanites would remove in time.

Bee watched and waited another two hours before calling his friends in. "Time to go."

"Already?"

"But we just got here."

Bee shook his head. Despite the protests, Mr. Witwicky and Miss Banes were coming out of the water, shivering slightly as the wind tugged on their soaking wet clothing. "Check your time pieces."

Sam glanced at his waterproof wrist-watch. "Oh, wow. It's that late already?"

Mikaela grabbed his wrist and turned his arm so she could see the clock face too. "Wow, no wonder I feel hungry."

Sam frowned. "Do we have to go on the road right now?"

Bee stood up. The kids did not see what he did, but they saw the effects. The sand and salt that previously covered his body just jumped off, leaving a pile of glttering sand at his feet. "No, you can dry off in the sun."

"Sunbathing? Sure." At Bee's confused expression, Sam held up a hand. "forget it."

Mikaela stepped to one side of Bee, shoving Sam towards the other side. "No peaking." She admonished the boy, before wringing out her hair and squeezing some of the excess sea water from her cloths. "Mind if I sit on your shoulder?"

Bee began to kneel down, hand extended to pick her up. "No need." Sam watched astonished as Mikaela scrambled up the bot as if it were something she did every day. Bee, feeling her fragile hands slip into crevices in his armor (plates relaxed slightly, not clamped tightly together, allowing heat and wind to flow), stood frozen stiff. Any movement on his part might slice her skin, and all unnecessary cuts were to be avoided. Even a scrape that didn't take more than a thin layer of skin off would be unacceptable to Bee. At least, during these playful times. If they ever entered another battle where it was a minor flesh wound or their life, he knew which he'd chose. Hopefully Sam would understand if it every came down to that.

Sam continued shivering in the wind while Mikaela sat on Bee's shoulder, allowing the radiating heat to dry her sooner than Sam, watching from the shade.

Sam blinked after a long while. "Got room for another rider?" Waving the offered hand aside, Sam tried duplicating Mikaela's efforts, but to no avail. Oh, he got up several feet, but then lost his grip and slid back to the ground. Frowning, Sam tried again and again. After the sixth fall, Sam lay on the sand and gave up. "Okay, can I have the help now?"

Bee rolled his head. Nevertheless, he gently picked up Sam and put him on the opposite shoulder. "Better?"

"Much. Thanks." The trio absorbed some more sun, luxuriating in the combination of heat and wind. "Do we have to go soon?"

Bee hummed, not wishing to blow out their ear-drums by speaking at normal volume.

"But we've got time."

"Yeah, you got us here in under three hours. We can make it back in the same length of time."

"No, not legally. Not without being noticed."

"What do you mean?"

"There are more police cars out in force. I can't tell if the radar stations are manned or automated. The airline flights between Tranquil, Nevada and here have increased ten fold, and only a small amount of them are actually commercial flights. The others consist mainly of manned traffic copters and other enforcer vehicles."

"Well, can't you blind their sensors?"

"I could, but that would leave a noticeable blank spot. All the retained and reassigned Ex-Sector 7 men and women are on the lookout for just that sort of interference, and they'd respond. Add in the panic caused whey they report a potential Decepticon sighting, and the public attention you avoided at Mission City will be focused on both of you. Again.

"Besides, the paranoid government agents are more likely to shoot to disable, than issuing a ticket. Unlike the local, state and highway officers who'd just pull us over for going too fast, or not turning the lights on."

"Okay, fine, we'll go now." Muttering under his breath "would have enjoyed spending more time here, instead of rushing."

Mikaela wanted to wallop Sam. Instead, she hissed, "Well, if someone had gotten up earlier, or packed beforehand and asked to spend the evening with a friend, we could have."

Bee crisscrossed his arms, placing one hand before each of the humans. "Ready to go?"

"Not really, but apparently I don't have a choice."

Shrugging simultaneously, Sam and Mikaela let go and stepped onto the metal palms. Then, once they were on the ground (mostly dry at this time, but still crusted with salt and sand), Bee transformed back into his vehicle mode. "Try not to drip on the leather."

"Ha, ha, ha." Sam quipped as he sank into the seat. "We won't ruin the finish, if that's your really big worry."

Mikaela turned on the air, full blast, and changed the settings from AC to heat. "What? I'm cold." She used the blowing air to continue drying her still moist and clammy cloths. "Next time I will remember the towel."

Sam snorted. "Today was fun."

Mikaela thought about it. She nodded. "Yes, yes it was." She patted the dashboard. "Thanks Bee."

"You're welcome, Mikaela, Sam."

Bumblebee sat on the beach another moment, before reluctantly engaging his engine. Even with four wheels giving him traction, he still had to struggle in the deep sand before any forward momentum began. Once he started moving, though, Bee refused to stop, but he kept the speed at a level the humans could tolerate.

Once Bee reached the main highway, he was the only one awake enough to enjoy the view. The setting sun, still a couple of hours before complete dark, gave way to a new appearance in the horizon and sky. With the coming of day's end, so did the traffic, many people just getting off work, heading for home, or out to eat.

Bee had to nudge Sam, adjusting the seat so that the driver didn't appear to be sleeping. Once they got out of the cities, Sam could join Mikaela in leaning back all the way, but right now, Bee needed him upright and semi coherent. "Wake up and at least _pretend_ to drive!" Bee pleaded with Sam, when the bleery eyed boy nodded off again.

"Okay, okay." Sam yawned and stretched before placing his hands on the wheel. He glanced out the window every couple of minutes, but as long as his head was up, no one should be too suspicious. 'Can't you tint the windows?"

"Doing so would bake the interior."

"Huh?"

"We don't color our windows the same way humans do. A darker shade increases the amount of heat we absorb, and to keep you two from dehydrating, I'd need to roll down the windows, thus bypassing any benefit the tint might have offered."

Sam exhaled noisily. "Okay, so normal glass, good. Dark glass, bad."

The sun, shining into the eyes of a good many drivers, did not bother either Sam or Mikaela. Then again, Bee was headed east, so the sun was behind him, not in front. On any other vehicle, the reflection in the rear-view mirror might have caused some irritation, but Bee's windows didn't glare or refract the light the same way. Autobots, generally, were a bit more energy efficient than humans, managing to turn solar radiation into energy themselves, bypassing the plants entirely. Straight solar energy, however, was not enough for a-full time field operative. It was only a stopgap measure.

Bee took the kids home, utilizing the same route for the most part, but the slightly reduced speed meant he could go through some towns instead of bypassing them as he did earlier. Under other circumstances he would have stopped at a fast-food restaurant, but considering neither human had cash on them, he did not. Besides, Sam and Mikaela were sleeping, and ignorant as to the passage of burgers and fries.

The first time Bee heard human stomachs growl, he almost panicked, thinking something was seriously wrong with the individual, wondering why people would go so long between meals that their tanks ran out. Of course, then he was still incognito and couldn't reveal himself. Then, he was still limited to radio lyrics, and there was no way of telling someone to 'go eat' or 'fill up'. Watching and waiting, Bee soon realized that humans typically ate throughout the day. On occasion, though, they could go a week without eating, and suffer no serious ill-effects. Still, growling stomachs worried him on occasion, even though by now, he knew the stomach emptied itself within three to five hours after the last bite.

Teenagers such as these two, if they were sleeping, let them be. A hungry teenager couldn't sleep, and a sleepy teen couldn't eat. The best way to let their bodies replenish and fix themselves, was to let the needs of the body dictate which action came first: eating or sleeping.

Thus, of the trio, only Bee noticed the purples and pinks of the ocean sky. The colors were illuminating, and stronger than what he saw in Tranquility, what with a lack of trees and two or three story buildings blocking the view. However, this pituerest scene had been repeated many times before, on several different worlds. The colors the earth had to offer did outshine others, but the scene was not enough to wake the sleeping teens.

Some humans liked the sunsets, others enjoyed the sunrises. Others did not care for the scenes or landscapes at all. Sam and Mikaela were young enough to enjoy many more of these in the years to come. Bee decided to let them sleep as he transported them home.


	2. Memories

**Sunday 30 September 2012**

Bumblebee had taken it upon himself to watch out for Sam. To be there, when he needed someone to talk to – and considering how often he had noted humans talking to themselves, or addressing inanimate objects when they thought they were alone, Sam talking to his car would not be seen as unusual – and drive Sam around when he needed to get someplace fast. Sam Witwicky may not have known it, but Bumblebee was there to be a bodyguard and protector as much as he was to be a friend.

In fact, after the battle in Mission City, all the humans who took a stance alongside the Autobots and fought the Decepticons, would be getting some kind of advanced protection. Even the Sector 7 agents, as much as the idea of protecting those who _experimented _on the Cube and Megatron, made the four surviving Autobots shudder in disgust. Sam was priority number one, as he landed the final blow. For now, Mikaela Banes would not be shadowed as closely as the others, since she spent considerable time with Sam Witwicky, or at the local education-training center for Tranquilities teenagers and subadults. If there were more warriors on earth, then they would be assigned human team members as well.

Ironhide capitulated and volunteered to watch over William Lennox and Robert Epps. Ratchet still dithered, needing to know who could survive an month in his presence, (not even battle-hardened Autobots volunteered to spend all day, every day under the Medic's keen eye and benevolent tyrannical ways) without screaming or going insane. Optimus Prime, shadowed John Keller as the Secretary Of Defense tried appropriated abandoned military bases, and revamping old, outdated secret hideouts that would suit their new allies.

Only Bumblebee's constant presence by Sam's side made it obvious. That had been explained away by the yellow bot's desire to learn more about humans and their culture first hand. It was the truth. There was only so much about human interaction that could be learned from far-off. To get a better understanding of humans as individuals, they needed to interact with humans on a semi-consistent basis.

Thankfully Sam had not objected to Bumblebee asking to remain his 'camero' and had quickly grown accustomed to a car that could drive itself. Secretly, Bumblebee was beginning to suspect the main reason Sam accepted his presence so quickly was because returning without a car would mean he'd be back to riding a bike to school or begging a ride off his parents. That, and the fact Sam slept in until the very last possible moment before leaving for school – and since Bumblebee already knew the way, Sam could eat while Bumblebee drove. "More efficient this way" Sam had mumbled through a mouthful of pop tarts one overcast morning, when asked why he didn't eat breakfast at home.

Bumblebee had no interest in becoming Sam's only friend, and the only one he could confide in. He just wanted to understand how humans thought (the available online psychological information did not clear things up), and letting Sam or Mikaela talk while he listened gave him some valuable insides. So did listening to Miles Lancaster ramble on about whatever topic had caught his fancy for the day. Some of the theories Miles mentioned while in that 'alien conspiracy' stage were at odds with facts and information stripped from secure networks. If those were the best firewalls and protection systems the humans had available, their culture, their nation, their world, would be doomed when the Decepticons took an active interest in subduing and taking control.

Sam never seemed to mind the questions Bee asked when they went on leisurely drives. They couldn't go to the coast every weekend (not that occasional trips to the beach weren't asked for), but crusing downtown, inevitably, Mikaela was present, and Bumblebee hesitated to interrupt their conversations, or risk getting overheard by teenagers like Trent DeMarco. And he was never again going to speak up during the drive-in-movie theater showings. Being berated by an irritated Mikaela almost made Bumblebee long for one of Optimus Prime's lectures, or Ratchet's long list of 'stuff I do for idiotic slag heaps' and the threats given to mechs as he repaired them. Nope, questions about the plot and special features could wait until after the ending credits finished sliding by.

By human standards, the day had been going by at an agonizingly slow pace. By Cybertron standards, time didn't slow to a creeping halt, or speed up and rush an unsuspecting individual, so the eight hours since Sam had walked past those swinging doors, had been eight hours. Bumblebe had noticed Sam seemed a bit withdrawn the last couple of days, but he always perked back to normal whenever someone engaged him in small talk, or a questionable hobby. Why did the boy spend so much time watching movies when he'd already seen the film several times? (Bumblebee knew – he'd snag the signal and watch the movie in the garage while Sam saw it in the house – he wanted to see what Sam saw in the entertainment, but the jokes and comedy slid right past him, until he searched the references and even then, he still didn't get what was so funny). The online gaming, and GameCube, Nintendo, X-Box, PlayStation, and similar systems also baffled the Autobots. Those games weren't real, and most weren't even based on real events, or stuff that could be real.

If Jazz had still been among those online, he would have strongly encouraged each and every one of them to 'go out and experience earth' instead of just being an observer. And for the saboteur, adapting oneself to fit the needs of a host family and local guide were more along the lines of 'simple observation.' Considering the public relations disaster that had surfaced when blurry images of Mission City's robotic invaders had cropped up, perhaps hiding in plain sight was the better option. For now, while humans were still uneasy about the idea of aliens visiting earth.

Bumblebee checked his internal chronometer and compared it to the local time. School would be out soon, and Sam would need a ride home. The only ones Sam gave rides to, were Miles and Mikaela – and Bumblebee wondered again at the small group of friends that Sam had. It was not healthy to limit ones social connections to only two others. At least, not for Cybertrons. Perhaps humans could remain sane without more people to talk to on a regular basis? Hmm, that would be a question to ask Judy or Ron, later. Neither of them seemed to have many acquaintances outside of work, and were fine. Both Witwicky parents had taken the revealing that Sam's car was actually a giant-alien-robot-in-disguise quite well. Either that, or their reaction was typical for humans upon learning that they weren't alone in the cosmos.

Which begged the question: which response would be more prevalent? Those that learned the truth about life on other planets and seemed to accept it without qualms, or those who feared the idea that their world had been visited, and screamed 'Protect Yourself' while donning aluminum or tin-foil hats?

Bumblebee did not believe himself well-versed in the understanding of humans to make that judgment call. This was another instance in which Jazz's absence was severely missed, for the silver mech would have grasped the gist of their culture and figured out a normal or typical response without actually needing to see them first hand (or hearsay) and the dozens or hundreds.

Bumblebee's musings were put on hold as the bell rang and hundreds (almost two thousand) of teenagers streamed out of the local high school building. This is when Sam and he were the most vulnerable – any attack now would cause mass confusion and panic, limiting the assistance Bumblebee could give in defense of the almost-adult members of society. Not that there was a high risk of a sneak attack here or now – Scorpnok could not travel across water, and the remaining Decepticons had either fled this watery planet, or had been deactivated in the confusion of Megatron's ultimate demise. Those that hadn't been taken apart beforehand, that is.

Sam slammed the door shut.

Bee winced. It hadn't hurt, and he wasn't startled, but Sam had been extra careful to not scratch his paint (not that Cybertron paint was as weak as human paints and enamels), or drop crumbs on the seats or floors – and the boy had been a lot more gentle with everything for a while now, so for Sam to be slamming something, it meant whatever had Sam withdrawing was big.

Glad for the untold millionth time that Ratchet had been able to fix his vocalizer, Bee spoke up. "What's wrong Sam?"

"Nothing", growled the boy. He shoved the key in the ignition and turned it, holding the ignition longer than required.

Bee winched, now that had stung, but only briefly. "Something's troubling you, Sam." He allowed the human to drive them out of the parking lot – letting the human navigate the parking lot at the end of school was the smart thing to do, for escaping the chaos of dozens of teenagers all heading for one small exit left his processors dizzy, and yet, Sam seemed to have no problem getting them out without any dents, dings, or chips. Most of the teenage drivers made it out of the ever-changing maze, all without accidents. The awe Bee felt the first time Sam drove and smoothly slid them into traffic had been real (this was before Sam had realized his old clunker had not been a real car), and it still floored him when Sam was able to recreate the experience every single school day. Medics like Ratchet could switch smoothly from a gridlock, avoiding accidents mindset, to chaos and to flight no problem. Others needed a precious nanosecond or more to make the adjustment. Humans – those Bee could keep an optic on – didn't seem to need any pause as they merged in and out of traffic.

"I'm fine Bee," Sam yelled.

Bumblebee fell silent. Whatever was bothering Sam was serious – and asking him proved to be futile. Sam's parents would be almost as clueless (or they had already figured it out, and chose not to mention it to Bumblebee). Mikaela might be a viable person to question but she had taken time off from school to go see her dad after he had been released fro prison – dad and daughter were doing parent-offspring stuff, like visiting Disneyland or something. Miles Lancaster, Sam's best friend, didn't yet know of Bumblebee's living status, and asking him would not work.

Bee's observation of the school (both when searching for the glasses and when watching out for Sam's well-being), led Bee to believe a 'bully' was the issue. However, that did not compute, because Trent D had been behaving himself of late.

"Is Trent DelMarco being a pest again?"

"It's Not Trent! Now Drop it, Bee!" Sam hit the steering wheel hard. The shock hurt more than the faint impact Bee's systems reported.

Bee would not 'drop' the issue, but he would be more circumstantial in his questions. Then he remembered something Sam had expressed interest in. "If you'd like to go to New York City, we can head out on Friday after school."

Sam leaned back and took his hands off the wheel. He no longer pretended to drive (assuming correctly that Bee would catch the uncontrolled drive and take over).

Having received no vocal confirmation or denial Bee persisted. The worst, he figured, Sam could do would be to continue to refuse to acknowledge him. "Assuming you still want to visit New York City."

"I don't want to talk about it." Sam muttered. Bee did not know if Sam intended for that response to be heard, since Cybertron audios could decipher mumbling, whispers, and other low-volume responses most humans could not catch.

"Sam, please tell me what's wrong."

"NOTHING is Wrong, Bee! Now FORGET IT!" Sam grabbed his bag and kicked at the door, then jumped out of the moving car, before Bee managed to pull into the Witwicky driveway.

Ron met his boy on the reinstalled gravel pathway. He clapped Sam on the back and picked up the bag his boy dropped. Bee moved into the garage, not knowing what else to do. Ron poked his head in the garage door shortly after. "Sam's fine, Bee. He just needs to be left alone for a bit."

"Mr. Witwicky" Bumblebee began to say, before remembering the father's request to be addressed by "Ron",

"Hmm?"

"Do you know why Sam's behaving oddly?"

"Yeah, I do." Ron pulled his head out of the garage, presumably to see Sam with his own eyes. "it's nothing personal, but Sam's always been moody during September. Especially today. Because on this day, several years back, my brother Irvine and his son Spike died in an accident. Sam was close to Spike, they were almost as inseparable as conjoined twins. Loosing them both was hard on Sam, and hard on me."

Bee unfolded from his car form and resumed his more familiar, mechanical humanoid base shape. He was stunned and shocked. Sam had given no indication he'd lost any family. Or lost a best friend. "Thank you for telling me. Is his reaction normal for humans?"

Ron shrugged. "What's normal? Humans haven't got a clue."

**THE TRANSFORMERS are not mine. Just saying.**


	3. Independance

**Disclaimer: Transformers are not mine - just borrowing the characters. Nor harm done, no damage meant.**

Bumblebee snapped awake instantly.

It took only a second to figure out why he interrupted his recharge cycle – the boy, Samuel James Witwicky was awake and up. The boy's parental units, Judy and Ron, were still sound asleep in bed.

Bumblebee wondered at the change – he may be relatively new to guarding humans but he'd learned Samuel's usual schedule and habits very quickly. Sam preferred to sleep in until 9 am at the very earliest, sometimes staying in bed until eleven in the afternoon. The boy reluctantly got up and prepared himself for school, scarfing breakfast down before slipping behind the driverseat, half-asleep as Bumblebee drove to the local-highschool, on the days he had to get up before seven in the morning.

Bumblebee listened and waited. If Sam's plans for the day included leaving the house, he'd come outside soon enough – meanwhile, staying incognito as a brand-new 2009 bright yellow Camero took priority, only to be broken if the Witwicky household was in danger.

Sam slid into the driver's seat. "Morning, Bee," he chirped cheerfully. "Isn't today a beautiful day?"

"Sam, are you okay?" Bumblebee had read that humans acted strange when they were ill. The unproven internet sources also suggested humans behaved weird when they wanted something – and that anniversaries, birthdays, and special occasions were all dates that could alter normal behavior. Each theory contradicted the others. None of it made sense.

"Hmm?" Sam pulled out his wallet, checking something. "Oh, I'm fine. Perfectly alright. Ready for the fireworks tonight. Can we swing by Mile's place before picking up Mikaela?"

Obligingly, Bumblebee pulled out and drove. "Fireworks?" Bumblebee checked the date. _Oh No!_ _Not July 4th!_ What was it with humans setting off colorful explosions and miniature noisemakers all along the roads, driveways, and parkling lots on this day? He almost danced out of his frame the first time he watched someone lit a firecracker and waved the sparkler around, laughing and giggling as the flames burnt the smoldering stick in their hands. _What's so special about this particular date that practically all of America gathered outside to watch flaming bombs explode in the sky? "_What's so special about July 4th?

Sam stopped everything. "Excuse me?"

"What is so special about today? It's just another lazy summer day."

"Today is The Forth of July man! Independence Day! The day we signed the Declaration of Independence – come on! Don't the Autobots have days that you celebrate your freedom from oppressive tyrants? Time to recall breaking away from a corrupt government?"

Bumblebee struggled to remember what it was like on Cybertron before the rebellion. Before the Decepticons decided to fight in protest at being treated worse than drones. "No."

"No?" Sam's jaw dropped. He pulled out his cell. "Hey, Miles? You up yet? Good. I'll be by your place shortly."

Bumblebee fell silent as Miles Lancaster approached. The huge dog laying in the shade of the giant oak stopped thumping its tail on the grassly lawn as the human left his side.

"Nice car. Where'd you get it?" Miles asked as he slid into the passenger seat. This was his standard greeting every time Sam gave his friend a ride.

Sam's jaw clenched. "Trade in." He pretended to pull away from the curb and took the car towards the location Mikaela Banes told him to pick her up.

Miles raised an eyebrow. "Try again bro.- I didn't believe that excuse the first time."

"A classic car collector traded me my old car for this new one." Sam's heart wasn't into the usual banter, and no matter how often he said the exact same thing, it didn't change what he knew.

"Bro, the 1972 Camero is old, but it wasn't classic – especially not with the rust and fading paint job it sported. Tell me the truth."

Sam sighed. "The government wanted a particular car. They wanted it bad, gave me this one to replace that one."

Miles snorted then laughed. "Don't ever change, bro. But I do want to know the truth, one day." The blond teen clicked his seatbelt after realizing the car was already on the road. "Ready to pick up some bottle rockets and firecrackers?"

"One more stop, first." Sam grinned. "I'm looking forward to this year's display – supposed to be better than last years."

Miles pushed stay strands of loose hair out of his eyes. "That's way they say every year, bro. The town's display never compares to Disneyland's."

Both teenagers laughed. And if Sam took his hands off the wheel while talking with Miles, no one noticed or cared enough to speak up.

Too soon the brand new, preowned 2009 bright yellow Camero pulled up to the curb, where Mikaela Banes waited.

"Whoa, bro. You never said we were picking up Trent's girl."

Mikaela reached through the open window and head-slapped the blond. "I'm not Trent's girl. Never have been." She sat in the backseat, glared at Sam. "Did you have to bring him along?"

"He's my best bud since Kindergarden, Mikaela – and we always spend the 4th together." Sam did not apologize for Miles' behavior.

Said friend leaned forward, staying out of reach of Mikaela's hands while rubbing his neck and back of the head.

"Whatever." Mikaela rolled her eyes. "What time is the barbeque tonight?"

"Fiveish" two voices answered in unison. "What your you thankful for today, Mikaela?" Sam continued

"It's not Thanksgiving," Mikeala protested.

Miles, deciding that the girlfriend's wrath wouldn't be aroused by his response, spoke up, letting Sam drive without interruptions or distractions. "Family tradition for my folks. Every holiday relatives come over, we list something we're grateful for – Seeing as today is the fourth, my folks will be expecting something along of the lines of 'Religious freedom' and 'Freedom of Speech."' but that's a bit vague, considering those two are already covered in the Bill of Rights." Miles fell silent.

Sam shook his head, even as he pulled in front of a roadside Fireworks booth. "Sorry, meant to ask, what makes today special for you?"

The guy manning the booth, doing brisk business exchanging the primed and wrapped colored mini-firecrackers for wards of cash or stacks of coins overheard them. "Selling the last of my stock so I can leave the heat and sun." He turned back to the paying customers. "Thank you for your patronage. Come again next year."

Miles perused the half-empty shelves. "We should have bought our fireworks three days ago." He mock complained.

The seller laughed. "Not to worry boys, I still have some specialty boxes left." He reached beneath the countertop and pulled out a huge container of mixed fireworks, flares, and other small-time miniature rockets. "Will this suffice?"

Miles reached for the boys, eyes wide with delight. "Thanks Tony."

"it's Anthony," the man playfully pouted. Sam forked over the appropriate change. "You here seriously wanting to know what makes today special for me?"

Mikaela nodded. The boys were too busy checking out the contents, of their recent purchase to pay attention. "Yes sir."

"None of that 'Sir' business young lady. I never served." He took care of another four customers before he could come back to Mikaela.

"This is the one time of the year everyone remembers what our families, our fathers, our friends, the grandparents and themselves sacrificed blood, tears, and lives for. Today we realize that the cost was indeed worth it, and that the those who died in war did not die in vain. As a nation, we celebrate the fact we have a choice today, to express ourselves in our own way. That we are no longer slaves to the system, and slaves to traditions, because of the ongoing sacrifice of blood and lives freely given.

"Now, what about you missy? What makes today especially special for you?"

Mikaela shrugged her shoulders. "I just like making things go boom."

"I new it!" crowed Miles. "You're a pyromaniac! A firebug!"

"I don't set fires indiscriminately," shot back Mikaela. I exercise control when lighting things containing gunpowder – "

Sam waved his friends back to the car. "See you next year, Antonio."

"It's Anthony!" The seller shouted. "Anthony, you ungrateful brat."

Bumblebee carefully peeled out once his passengers were inside. _He_ was not fond of carrying ready-made explosions, even if they were designed to be relatively harmless and safe to handle until the fuse was lit.

As the Autobot ferried Sam and his friends around, Bumblebee reflected on the answers Sam and Mikeala (and Miles) gave/received as they asked random strangers 'What makes today special for you?'

A lot of people pressing around the trio of teenagers either did not give much thought to what they celebrated – citing things like a "paid holiday" or "excuse to party", or "Vacation time" – but a lot of others mentioned remembering freedom – freedom from discrimination, freedom to own guns, freedom to protect themselves, freedom to express themselves, etc – and the right of decisions of choice.

Bumblebee still did not care for the night time explosions. (Honestly, people shooting guns or blowing noise makers up, or burning sticks of dynamite, and the like, just because made no sense whatsoever) but having learned the meaning behind the celebration, Bee found he could enjoy the bright flashes of light.

Bumblebee flinched when the rockets flew into the air, shrieking defiance right as they burst into ripples and stars of color, but he did not jump, knowing that there was no air-attack. It was just the humans' love for lights, for loud noises, and for pretty explosions that made the Town's Fireworks show enjoyable, and not dreaded.


End file.
